


plan of attack

by judlane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, College Parties, F/M, Insecurity, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Vomiting, bc lance is insecure and keith is emotionally constipated, lance reads way too much into proper grammar during texting, like a lot of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judlane/pseuds/judlane
Summary: Lance was going to get over Keith Kogane.(spoiler: he does not, in fact, get over Keith Kogane.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> some more specific warnings: there are parties in this, and from my college parties experiences, there's always a lot of alcohol and weed, so there's going to be plenty of that in here  
> lance is insecure and uses alcohol and drugs and parties to be more confident... not too crazy but just enough yknow  
> sorry for grammar mistakes!

The first time Lance saw Keith Kogane he was high as hell and nearly popped a boner right then and there. He blamed it on Keith’s sharp cheekbones and the weed because Lance McClain did not fall for other boys with mullets. He had standards.

The second time he saw Keith, there was a distinct absence of weed but very much still a boner and mullet.

 _This is going to be a problem_ , Lance had thought as he skillfully angled his body away from the other coffee shop goers and pretended to be engrossed in the data sheet he was supposed to be filling out for his Economy class. Not thinking about Keith Kogane and his lithe body and pale skin and fucking mullet. Who the hell still had a mullet nowadays? And who the hell did he think he was to look hot with a fucking mullet?

But there were more important things at hand like Lance’s slipping grades, so he had buckled down and absolutely did not obsess over Keith ordering a simple black coffee to go.

 

\---

 

“He has a mullet, Hunk. A mullet! And guess what else,” Lance paused dramatically, throwing himself back onto his dorm bed and tossing an arm over his eyes.

Hunk munched noisily on his chips and never looked up from his computer screen.

When Lance wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted (this was a serious problem here), he sat up on his elbows and glared at the back of Hunk’s head.

“Hunk.”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, something about -” Hunk stopped with a chip halfway to his mouth. “Actually, nope, no idea what you were talking about.”

Lance groaned loudly and rolled onto his stomach so he could suffocate himself with his pillow. He wriggled on the bed, just for dramatic effect though Hunk was still enraptured by his homework, and then sat up with a deep sigh. “I was saying he has a mullet and drinks black coffee. Like, nothing in it black. Like, no cream, no sugar, nada.”

Hunk lifted one bulky shoulder. “Yeah, that’s usually what black coffee means, Lance.”

Lance hurled a pillow at his best friend’s back who squawked and quickly cradled his chips to his chest. “Dude!”

“You’re not _listening!_ ”

“What? Yes I am! He has a mullet and drinks black coffee!”

“Hunk, buddy, you’re not grasping the situation here, okay. He’s hot. Bend me over anytime, anywhere kinda hot. It’s not fair. He looks like he’s some kind of - of greaser or something. Stay Gold, Ponyboy, that kinda shit,” Lance whined fretfully.

Hunk sighed and turned in his chair to pin Lance down with a patronizing look. He was really good at those things, especially when he claimed Lance was being _overdramatic_ or _unreasonable_ or other synonyms that Lance certainly was not. If Hunk had seen Keith in those jeans with that hairdo, he’d be in just as a predicament as Lance was.

“Why don’t you, I don’t know, try and talk to him. You said you first saw him at a party, right? Why not see if you can get to know him at the next one?”

“I can’t do that! That screams desperation!”

Hunk furrowed his brow. “Well, you are desperate, right?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Lance hissed.

“Oh my God, I literally don’t understand you at all. I love you Lance, but sometimes even I don’t know.” Hunk turned back around with his hands held aloft in defeat.

Lance huffed and rolled onto his back and tossed his arm back over his eyes. “Drama queen,” he muttered.

A pillow pummeled him in his stomach and Lance laughed loudly.

 

\---

 

The Keith Kogane Obsession only grew worse as the weeks past. And the worst of it was that Lance hadn’t even seen Keith once since that fateful boner-in-the-coffee-shop incident. But that didn’t deter his growing attraction. Lance was always on edge when he saw broad shoulders and black hair and pale skin. It was like he was some kind of Kogane addict desperately in need of a fix. It was humiliating.

Lance had never been so stuck over a guy or girl before. He had a few flings, nothing seriously concrete because he’d always claimed himself as a free spirit (which he was, thank you very much), but there was just something about Keith. Lance wasn’t even really lusting. With other people he found attractive, he thought of them naked, either below or above him, what they would be like in bed. And he always had the confidence to approach because Lance knew he was pretty good looking and had great hygiene and mediocre jokes, so he was basically a wrapped package labeled _Good Time, One Night Only._

But with Keith it was like the few facts Lance knew about him were precious gold. He had a mullet. He liked his coffee black to go. He went to parties. He had flawless skin and a strong jaw and broad shoulders. The only thing dismaying Lance was that he couldn’t recall the clothes Keith had been wearing either time (once due to him being stoned and the other because he was getting hard in his pants).

So Lance was left to his own devices and imagined him in leather jackets and buckle boots and clean white shirts. Okay, so maybe Lance wasn’t entirely over the whole greaser idea, but anybody who claimed they didn’t think the 50s style is a turn on is lying through their teeth. Plus, they were his fantasies and had no business being criticized ( _cough_ Hunk).

A month had passed since his last Keith Kogane sighting and Lance was losing hope. It was kind of ridiculous, to be so hung over someone he’d only seen twice, but if Lance was going to pine, he was going to do it long and hard until he sufficiently wrecked his heart. Plus it made him really passionate in bed, something about being an outlet for his emotions, yada yada.

And that was Lance’s plan for the night. Tonight was another party at Shay’s house, Hunk’s longtime girlfriend, and he was going to get thoroughly fucked. Both by alcohol and by some willing participant. In whatever order was fine. He was going to get over Keith Kogane as many fucks and shots it took him.

 

\---

  
“You ready?” Hunk asked as he stepped out from the bathroom, fiddling with his button up.

“Yup! Let’s go!”

Hunk drove a plain, simple car that ran lukewarm air and had nice leather seats, much better than Lance’s shitshow of a car that resembled something out of Mad Max.

Shay was waiting for them at the front door, her face lighting up at the sight of Hunk. They’d been dating for nearly four years now, and it was gross. Absolutely revolting. Kinda cute though.

“Hunk! Lance! Come on in, you guys get first drinks.” Shay wrapped Lance in a quick one arm hug before pecking Hunk softly on the cheek. The look they shared was doting and made Lance gag earnestly.

Shay’s house was decent for a college student, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, connected living room and kitchen, copious sitting areas and space for mingling party goers. The backyard was also pretty great with strung up fairy lights and the wooden porch designated solely for beer pong and weed. Bottles upon bottles littered the kitchen counter along with several unopened bags of red solo cups.

 _That needs to change_ , Lance mused as he wasted no time ripping open the plastic and pouring himself a rum and coke. No one else had arrived yet, but then again it still was a little early. Most people began to show up around seven to eight, so Lance had a good thirty minutes to inhale as much alcohol as needed to get smashed.

Behind him Lance could hear Shay and Hunk murmuring to each other, sweet things like _I missed you_ and _how was your day_ and it made Lance want to guzzle down the rum straight. Relationships were too fickle, too much devotion and land mines planted where you least expected them, and just no thank you. Sex was good. Sex was great. Emotions? Dealing with communication? Not for him.

As time went on and Lance downed another drink, he was feeling exceptionally loose as people began to show up. They were all from Hunk’s and Shay’s advanced classes, people who studied things that started with _quantum_ and _neuro_ and other shit that flew way past Lance’s head. They were good people, though, and laughed at all of Lance’s jokes and could stand their own in beer pong. Plus they didn’t pull any crazy shit, so Lance was good to get wasted and not get too worried about other people’s actions.

Lance poured his third drink of the night off to the side, mouth warm and legs buzzing when Hunk was suddenly straightening up like a bullet beside him. They were in the middle of mixing drinks for Shay and her friends, but Hunk quickly abandoned Lance in favor for a short, brown-haired girl.

“Pidge!” Hunk cried, throwing his arms out wide.

Pidge laughed, glasses flashing, and hugged Hunk tight.

Lance had no clue who this chick was, but he had a drink quota he needed to fill, so he just got back to work, ignoring how the two fell into talking about something that should really just stay in school, not at a college party. But then again everyone here was studying something advanced, so Lance could let it slide. He was more intent on getting drunk anyways.

Lance carried the drinks to where Shay and her friends were sitting around the dining table, smiling cheekily at some of the single ones before returning back to the kitchen to snag his own drink. He turned slowly to survey the party, and choked on his first sip in horror.

There, standing beside Pidge, shaking Hunk’s hand, was Keith Kogane. Keith mullet-boy Kogane. And he was wearing a leather fucking jacket.

Lance did the only thing his intoxicated brain could come up with. He ran.

He hurriedly slid outside before Hunk could turn and do some - some stupid shit like _introduce_ him or something terrible. That would just be the worst. He’d have to kill Hunk if he did that. Not really, he’d probably just revoke best friend rights and make Hunk squirm before he forgave him.

Three guys were standing around the beer pong table, obviously looking for a fourth participant, so Lance quickly volunteered as he tossed back his drink and took his place. The liquor sloshed in his stomach and he was a little queasy, but soon the effects were thrumming through his veins and Lance was laughing loud and open.

He played two rounds of beer pong and by the time he was done, he couldn’t really feel his feet and everything was funny as hell. His partner - Kyle? Kaden? Kole? - had his arm wrapped around Lance and he was stroking Lance’s side a little and it felt great because Lance effectively could not think a single thought correctly. And by the bright flush across Kyle’s? Kaden’s? Kole’s? face told Lance he couldn’t either.

And drunk sex was the best sex.

Lance let himself be led back into the house, smiling wide. Everyone was clearly intoxicated now, maybe not to Lance’s degree, but there was a lot of loud laughter and the thumping of music and people nodding a little too earnestly.

If Lance had been sober, he would’ve stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Keith Kogane sitting up on the kitchen counter, red solo cup in one hand, and smiling over at Hunk on the other side of the bar. Pidge was leaning next to him and smiling as well, ears a bright pink. Shay was curled up closely to Hunk’s body, shooting doting looks up at him that made Lance just want to hit the bottles harder. Relationships were a joke, but Hunk was happy, so Lance would keep his mouth shut.

But Lance was very, very not sober and it was getting kinda hard to stand without swaying as the beer took its hold. So he let Kyle? (It had to be Kyle because that was the easiest name to remember) herd him into the kitchen. When Hunk caught site of him, he cut himself off and straightened.

“Lance!”

“Yoo, Hunk, my man!” Kyle’s arm was like a vice around Lance’s waist as he guided him to where the liquor bottles were. Which so happened to be right where Keith was lounging. Who happened to be looking right at Lance. Lance, who was drunk off his feet.

Hunk clapped Lance hard on his shoulder and even he looked a little too bright-eyed. “I was just telling Keith and Pidge here about you!”

“Ohhh, really? Good things?” Lance was trying his best to not slur, but it was just so hard talking normally.

Hunk nodded enthusiastically and waved his free hand in the air while the other slowly rubbed up and down Shay’s back.

“Keith, Pidge, this is Lance. He’s my best friend.”

Lance accepted the drink Kyle handed to him and mimed wiping a fake tear from his eye. _“Bro.”_

Hunk laughed deep and low, and Shay shot him a grin. Pidge looked pleasant enough. Keith was still staring at Lance but he looked a little smug. His lips were twisted in a small half-smirk that shot straight to Lance’s groin. How the fuck can someone so handsome have a mullet?

Lance belatedly he needed to say something. Kyle was rubbing slow circles on his lower back.

“Nice to meet you two.”

Good. That was simple. Polite. Not too drunk sounding.

“Nice to meet you too,” Pidge replied, taking a slow slip from a cup.

The action reminded him of the plastic between his own two hands and he tossed it back, guzzling it down. There was the alcohol twist to it, but mostly it just tasted like water, and Lance knew he was going to have a raging hangover in the morning. Worth it because sober Lance would not be able to sit here and act this normal. If he had been sober he would be stuttering and flushing every time Keith breathed. Being drunk was a good improvement to Lance’s personality.

Kyle pulled the cup from his hands and murmured in his ear about refilling it and something else about what he wanted to do to Lance later, but Lance was much more preoccupied with what Shay was whispering in Hunk’s ear who was looking at him a little strangely. Gross, they were probably talking about sex. Well, Kyle had just done the same thing, but it was different because this was no-strings-attached sex. Hunk and Shay probably lit candles and cried and all that dumb shit.

But then his cup was being handed to him, filled with dark liquid, and Kyle was pressed against his back, and he was fine. Before he could take a sip, a hand covered the top.

Lance was taken aback slightly to see Keith leaning forward, his own cup dangling between his legs and his other hand around Lance’s. His brow was furrowed and mouth tugged down in a frown. Fuck, he was absolutely gorgeous.

“Maybe you should slow your roll, man. Drink a glass of water.” His voice was even sexier. God, Lance could come just from his voice. Fuck.

Hunk detached himself from Shay and got him some water and offered it to Lance. For some reason, he also looked a little concerned. What the fuck?

“What? Why?”

“Lance, you’re pretty drunk right now,” Hunk supplied, pressing the water closer. “It’d be good to drink some water, just one cup.”

“What? No, I’m fine. Really, guys, I’m fine.” Keith didn’t remove his hand.

“Look, just drink a cup of water,” Keith said, exasperated.

And that -- that _really_ got on Lance’s nerves.

He snatched his cup back, liquid sloshing out and onto Lance’s shirt, but he didn’t care. Because who was Keith (hot, sexy, leather jacket wearing Keith) to tell him what to do? He’d known him for what? Three minutes? Two?

“I said, I’m fine. Come on, Kyle,” Lance snapped, sidestepping around Hunk and pointedly ignoring the water.

“Uh, my name is Ben,” Kyle - no, fuck - Ben said, looking sheepish.

“Kyle, Ben, whatever, just come on.” Lance rushed out of the kitchen and back outside, where the cool night air felt great on his buzzing skin and simmering anger. Ben trailed behind him. The door shut behind him on Hunk’s call of _Lance._

Lance really needed a blunt.

“Hey, Ben, you smoke?” Lance asked over his shoulder as he stepped off the wooden porch and walked around to the side of the house, where it was dark and out of sight from the party.

“Uh - yeah, sometimes.”

“Cool, wanna smoke with me?” Lance dug around in his pockets for his Altoids can. There was only one blunt left, but it’d do for the both of them. “You got a lighter?”

Ben nodded, and he was actually kinda cute with curly light brown hair and doe eyes. He pulled out a lighter and held it up to spark the blunt between Lance’s lips.

Lance took a slow drag and passed it to Ben, who brushed their fingers together when he grabbed it. He was obviously interested in Lance, his eyes more often then not below Lance’s waist line and standing just close enough Lance could see the faint dusting of freckles across his nose.

Keith’s skin had been a clean slate. Not one single mole or freckle or scar.

But Keith was an asshole. Lance grit his teeth and ignored how the world was tipping crookedly and inhaled again when Ben passed the blunt back.

Boys with mullets who wore leather jackets and ordered black coffee were assholes. Lance should have seen that coming from a mile away, but Keith’s dumb shoulders and dumb handsomeness had gotten in the way. A whole month wasted on Keith Kogane. This was why Lance got drunk and high and everything inbetween. This kind of emotional shit was just a joke and it made him pissed.

A depreciating laugh slipped out from the back of Lance’s throat. Ben was obviously trying to ignore it as he smoked, looking everywhere in the dark but Lance.

Lance was here to get drunk and high and laid. He had already accomplished two goals of the night, time for his third.

“You want me to suck your dick?” Lance asked, leaning against the wooden fence and regarding Ben through his lashes.

Ben sucked in hard and then erupted into dry coughing, eyes tearing up with the force. Lance laughed again and pushed himself closer so he could pat his back soothingly, and then let his palm slide over Ben’s hip and to his stomach.

Lance pressed himself close, his front to Ben’s left side and let his hand slide to the top of his pants. He dragged his fingers back and forth across the waistband and Ben let out a low whine impatiently. Lance was really starting to feel everything catch up to him, the drinks, the beer, the weed. His head was heavy and his limbs were too warm and his face had long since gone numb. Really, all he wanted to do now was lie down and have someone rub his back or just kiss for a little while, but he had made his offer and it’d be really shitty of him to redact it now. Not with his hand sliding down the front of Ben’s pants and into his underwear.

But, of course, things going to shit had been the theme for the night, and the night was long from being over.

“Hunk is looking for you.”

Keith Kogane was standing in front of the small pocket Lance and Ben were in, arms crossed over his chest and eye piercing. Ben jerked away from Lance and hastily righted himself, embarrassment evident even in the darkness.

“I should - uh - I’ll get going. I’ll call you.” Like that he was gone, rushing past Keith with his head low and shoulders up around his ears. Lance had never given him his phone number.

Lance groaned and leaned against the fence and put his hands over his face. Fuck, he was really dizzy. “Tell ‘im I’ll be there in a min.”

Honestly, Lance wasn’t going to go see Hunk because his legs weren’t really operating correctly but he just really wanted Keith to leave him alone. Ben had left with his blunt. Fuck.

“You shouldn’t smoke when you’re drunk.” Was he really still here? Lance peaked through his fingers. Keith had moved closer, completely out of reach from the porch light. For a moment, Lance could see it. Sucking Keith’s dick, maybe be taken to bed, and then his hands would be washed clean of this dumb obsession. If only things were that easy.

“Okay, mom,” Lance grunted.

Keith shot him a dirty look that only made him more attractive.

“I’m being serious. You’re going to get sick.”

Lance waved a hand dismissively in the air and ignored how it made him, ironically, nauseous. “Fun fact: I don’t get sick. So could please take your concerned citizen self somewhere else? Maybe go interrupt some more guys about to get their dicks sucked?”

“You’re obviously way too inebriated to be doing something like that,” Keith replied and leaned one shoulder against the fence. With a stance like that, he really did look like he belonged in the Outsiders.

“First off, it’s a party. Second off, who the fuck says ine - inebriated? Third off, last time I checked, I met you, what, twenty minutes ago?”

“Look, I’m just trying to help you out, you could at least stop being a total asshole about it.”

Hot anger boiled in Lance’s veins. “Asshole? You’re calling _me_ an asshole?”

Keith slowly straightened up. Lance was a little pleased to see he had a good inch or two on him, but his arms were basically twigs compared to Keith’s sculpted ones.

“Yes. You practically shotgunned a mixed drink after playing a game of beer pong. And all I said was to drink one cup of water so you didn’t vomit all over yourself later on in the night. I was trying to be helpful.”

Lance pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and groaned. He was actually not feeling too hot now, but he didn’t want Keith to know that. “Look, you’re fucking hot and all, but you’re a douche.”

Keith looked slightly taken aback, but Lance was trying to keep everything in his stomach where it was meant to be, so he pushed off the fence and strode forward.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find Hunk, my friend.”

The porch light was too bright and the people were too loud and the music was too chaotic and fuck, Lance was going to be sick. He power walked into the house, pushed past a throng of people in the hallway and to Shay’s room. No one was allowed into Shay’s room, besides Shay and Hunk, and she had her own private bathroom. Sweet privacy where Lance was going to vomit.

He barely made it to the toilet before he was retching. His skin was hot and cold and everything kept shaking back and forth as he tried to right himself. The tiles of the bathroom floor were cool against his knees and the porcelain a relief on his forehead. Lance fumbled out his phone, fingers shaking as he unlocked it to check the time.

10:13 p.m.

Lance ignored the three texts from Hunk, and curled his body around the toilet.

Man, was he pathetic.

 

\---

 

“I’m sorry, Hunk,” Lance said the moment he collapsed in the passenger seat. He’d woken up, slouched over in the bathroom with a blanket tossed over him and a cup of water set off to the side. His neck was sore, his butt was numb, and his head hurt.

Hunk sighed. “It’s fine, Lance, I just wish… you’d just slow down, yknow? It’s not a race.”

Lance closed his eyes and leaned back as Hunk pulled away from Shay’s house.

“Yeah, I get it.”

Hunk was quiet for a few moments and gripped the wheel a little harder. “You need to also apologize to Keith.”

Lance groaned and put his face in his hands. God, he was such wreck. Who the hell gets in a fight over drinking water? Keith had been trying to help him, for fuck’s sake.

“I know, I know. The next time I see him, I’ll say something.”

Hunk nodded. “Good, because I gave him your number so he should be texting you today.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To have a chance to talk to him?”

“Yeah - but not after I spent the entire night drunk and yelling at him.”

“You win some, you lose some,” Hunk replied easily, smirk flitting across his lips.

“You are the worst wing-man ever.”

“Sure.”

Lance spent the rest of the day in his bed and staring at his phone. Every time it buzzed or pinged or lit up, his heart stopped. Honestly, he had no idea what he was losing his mind over. Keith was probably going to text him some shitty paragraph on how you should treat people and Lance would probably cry and probably send back a small ‘sorry’ and then Keith would probably get pissed.

But as the day wore on and the last remnants of sunlight were fading from his window, Lance rolled over and buried himself under his blanket. Humiliation flushed his cheeks and he had fucked up, okay, Lance knew that, Hunk knew that, everyone knew that. Why was he waiting on a text that was never going to come?

His phone buzzed.

Lance rolled onto his stomach and stared down at the screen.

1 New Message

 _Please don’t be my mom_ , Lance thought. _But also please be my mom._

The number was definitely not his mom’s.

**_Hey, this is Keith._ **

Lance threw himself onto his back, pressed his pillow to his face, and screamed. He even kicked his legs for good measure. It was a full minute of body squirming and loud grunts before he could pick his phone back up again.

A thousand different replies flitted through his head.

_hey_

After the message was sent, Lance went back to kicking his legs and punching his pillow. He wrapped himself in his comforter, but once he was scared he was suffocating in his cocoon, he popped his head back out and risked a glance at his phone.

**_This is Lance, right?_ **

The thought of Keith typing out his name should not have sent his stomach swooping.

_yea_

The reply was immediate.

**_Okay._ **

Lance waited. And waited. Should he send another text back? But that period seemed pretty definite in ending the conversation. Was he waiting on Lance’s apology? He wished Hunk was here so he could bounce ideas off of him or maybe tell him to stop being such a wuss. Instead, Lance shoved his phone away from him and went back to his cocoon.

What was Lance supposed to do?

 

\---

 

In the three weeks that passed Lance read Keith’s texts over three hundred times. At minimum. He’d written out various replies, but one look at that fucking period, and he was backspacing everything. He’d brought his concerns up with Hunk who had supplied that maybe Keith was concerned with actual punctuation and to not read too much into it.

Lance had to give Hunk the entire run down on how a period could effect the tone and intent of a text which was mostly just Lance ranting about how Keith just wasn’t texting him at all and what was he supposed to do.

When Hunk quipped, “Text him back?” Lance had to throw himself on his pillow to stop from throttling his best friend.

He was steaming over it even as he set up his computer in his usual place on the campus coffee shop in the same spot he’d sported a chub so long ago. Lance rubbed at his eyes and tried to shake Keith from his mind long enough so he could actually get some homework done. He had been behind since his first day (school was never his strong point) but he was trying his best to at least keep his head afloat.

And math was trying its damnedest to drown him.

He was struggling with an equation when a rough tap on his shoulder ripped him from his zone and he glanced up.

Pidge was standing over him, a large bound book in one hand and a to go cup in the other. Her glasses were beginning to fog from the steam.

“Hey, you’re Lance right?”

Lance swallowed hard and forced a wobbly smile on his face. “The one and only.”

Pidge laughed and moved to the empty seat across from him.

“I thought so. What are you studying?”

This very much felt like a ploy to exploit Lance. She probably had a wire on the inside collar of her green flannel and the moment Lance muttered _Finite Mathematics_ her team of hackers would lower Lance’s grade even more in retaliation while Keith watched on in his leather jacket.

Instead, Pidge just smiled and took a sip from her drink.

“I took that back in high school.” A hot flush of humiliation crept down Lance’s neck and he wanted to snap that _yes, he knew he was behind but not everybody could be geniuses_. “I could help you if you want.” Oh.

Lance stared down at his scratch work, more of question marks and marked through equations than actual correct answers.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Lance said, shoulders slumping.

“Cool, give me your phone.”

“What?” Lance reeled back, instinctively holding his phone to his chest.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “So we can schedule meeting times? So I can tutor you?”

“Oh.” Lance flushed at his reaction and unlocked his phone so Pidge could enter her number and couldn’t help but squirm while she held his phone a moment longer than necessary. Was she putting a tracking bug on it? Was she wiring it up so all of his conversations would be recorded? Was she planting a bomb and the next time Lance watched porn it exploded?

Pidge handed his phone back with a small smile and stood up, thick book tucked under arm. “Well, I’ve better get going. It was nice seeing you again, Lance. Just text me whenever you need help, ‘kay?” She didn’t wait for an answer and strode off and Lance stared after her.

 

\---

 

Lance had watched enough episodes of Game of Thrones to know what was going on.

“I need to know everything about Pidge, pronto. Detailed report,” Lance said the moment he was through his dorm door.

Hunk looked up from his computer, thick rimmed glasses hanging off his nose. He only ever wore them when his contacts were bothering him or when he was writing long pieces of code. And by the piles of papers scattered on the desk, he had probably been there for a few hours.

“Why?”

“Because there’s a plot going on that will end in either me being humiliated or death.”

“That’s a pretty... drastic difference.”

Lance stepped out of his shoes and threw himself on his bed. “Not really, they’re basically the same thing.”

“Of course they are to you. Why don’t you just talk to her yourself?” Hunk supplied as he reshuffled some his papers.

“I did. And that’s why I’m saying I need to get ahead of the game before they can one-up me.”

“They?”

“Yeah, Pidge and Keith. There’s definitely something going on here. She offered to help me on math homework and everything,” Lance replied. He wriggled out of his pants and tossed them on the floor.

Hunk sighed, long and loud. “Lance, have you ever given in to the thought that maybe they just want to be your friend? And aren’t plotting to take you down?”

“What, why?” The notion floored Lance. Be his friends?

Hunk turned in his chair to regard him with a strange look. “What do you mean why-” His phone buzzed loudly from where it sat on the desk. Hunk quickly answered it, back straightening. “Hey Shay! Uh, yeah I can go out for a little bit. Lunch? Yeah, I can do that. Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Lance pulled his comforter up to his chin. Hunk hung up and stood, back cracking loudly. He pointed a finger at Lance in a very much not intimidating gesture. “We are going to talk about this when I get back.”

“Yeah, yeah, go have fun with the GF,” he drawled.

When the door clicked closed behind Hunk, Lance brought up Pidge’s contact. It looked innocent enough. But there was just something eating at him. He had been a total ass at the party. If someone had been a dick to Hunk, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to be nice to them. He’d punch their fucking lights out. So what was with Pidge? Why go out of her way to offer help to Lance?

Lance groaned and pulled his pillow his face in his frustration. And what about Keith? What was up with him and that period? Nothing made sense.

He really needed to be drunk or high right now.

 

\---

 

Lance had promised Hunk he would go slow on the alcohol, and he was, okay. He totally was and he was only four shots in and he was fine. He even made sure to show Hunk he was drinking a glass of water to prove his point.

But when he spotted Keith across Shay’s living room, smiling and nodding at something Pidge was saying, he had to physically restrain himself from downing the nearest bottle. He promised and he was going to keep it. He curbed the urge by tossing back another shot and sipping his water. The liquor hummed pleasantly in the back of his throat and unfurled in his chest.

He could do this.

He spent a good portion of the night spacing out his shots and drinking three whole cups of water while mingling with various of Hunk’s friends from class. It was easy going and once the alcohol took its hold, he was laughing and smiling and could easily drift from group to group as everyone loosened up. He’d almost forgotten about Keith.

Almost.

A hand clapped around Lance’s shoulder and he looked up to see a guy jerking his thumb towards the beer pong table outside.

“Hell yeah,” Lance replied to the unanswered question.

The thing is that Lance is really, really good at beer pong. Like, probably the best. He should compete at a national level. After his fourth consecutive shot landed in a red cup, Lance crowed that everyone only refer to him as sharpshooter for the rest of the night, but from their dubious looks that wasn’t going to happen.

Lance was so engrossed his game he almost didn’t notice Keith slipping outside with Pidge at his side.

Almost.

He tried to pretend like he hadn’t noticed them as he took another shot, laughing a little too loudly as the ball sank home and high-fived his partner. Tried to pretend he couldn't literally feel Keith’s eyes on his back or hear Pidge’s voice. Fuck.

Lance hoped the game would last for the rest of the entire night, but too soon it was over and Lance was going to have to turn and face Keith, and shit, he wasn’t ready for this. He was a little too intoxicated to have a serious conversation, especially in front of a hot boy.

He tried to make time by cleaning up the cups but a voice cut him off.

“Want to play a round with me?” Keith asked, holding four beers like it was nothing. Like him and Lance were buddy buddy and just two dudes playing some pong.

“Yeah, sure,” Lance said a little quickly and winced at how strangled his voice sounded. Just two dudes, playing some beer pong. Chill out.

Despite the voices carrying out of the house and the music playing, an awkward silence fell over the two of them as they arranged and filled their cups. Every so often Lance could see Keith glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes and it made his stomach squeeze.

“You, uh, you can go first,” Lance said.

Keith wasted no time in tossing his first ball and plopping it straight in. And then his second. And then doing it again as Lance reluctantly rolled the balls back. It was almost on purpose when he missed. The smirk he shot Lance was fucking hot as hell but infuriating.

Lance guzzled down his four drinks and set the cups to the side. Two could play that game.

The grin he gave Keith when he made his two shots was absolutely filthy, and when he did it again, it grew until his cheeks were aching. Lance flicked his ball off to the side, obviously away from the table.

“Whoopsie.”

Keith arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

Lance held his hands aloft. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t even say anything, so you basically just incriminated yourself.” Lance absolutely did not stare at Keith’s ass as he bent down to pluck up the ball. Nope. Not at all.

“Can’t incriminate myself if there wasn’t a crime.”

Keith rolled his eyes and Lance’s pants were starting to get a little tight and this could not be happening. He was not going to play beer pong with Keith Kogane with a chub. He willed his body to calm. It was just a fucking eye roll for Christ’s sake.

Lance won the game. Barely. But he still won and Keith was looking a little put out, lower lip jutting out slightly and Lance imagined what it would be like to suck it into his mouth or bite it.

The beer was really getting to him.

The porch was empty save them, everyone opting to mingle inside. Even Pidge was gone. The realization was like a punch to Lance’s gut and he shifted nervously.

Keith didn’t seem to sense the atmosphere and wiped his hands off on his jeans, nose scrunching at the stickiness.

“You-” Lance had to cough to clear his throat, “you wanna smoke with me?”

Keith stared at him for a long moment, and Lance suddenly thought back to that night, his angry tone as he snapped  _you shouldn’t smoke when you’re drunk._

“Or not, y’know. It’s fine. We should prob go inside and see where Hunk and-”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

The intensity of Keith’s stare made Lance feel like a frog about to be cut open for dissection.

“Yeah, I’ll smoke with you.”

Lance shoved his hands in his pockets so he could grab his Altoids can and to hide his shaking fingers. “Okay, uh, yeah.” This was suspicious. Something was definitely not right and he thought of pretending to read a text from Hunk and make some flippant excuse to go back inside, but Keith was looking straight at him. So he hopped off of the porch and struggled to keep his shoulders from hunching.

Keith followed him as he went around to the side of the house. Lance tried to think about how his legs looked and the breadth of his shoulders and his sharp jaw. Or how his eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

Lance wasn’t nearly as drunk as he usually was, so smoking a blunt was a nice buzz that made him melt against the fence. He held the lit stick out for Keith, who wasted no time stepping closer and putting it to his lips. Lance’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Keith’s lungs hallowing and the smoke curling out slowly, like it was trying to cling to him as long as possible.

They smoked in silence. It wasn’t necessarily awkward or tense, but Lance kept his eyes averted everywhere from Keith. Maybe he should say something about the other night. Keith didn’t seem like he was holding any type of grudge but then again, he was kind of hard to read.

Lance ran a hand over his face and worked his jaw as he mulled over his words. _Hey, by the way, sorry for being a total dick the other night. Hey, you’re fucking hot as hell and I want you to bend me over right now, but also sorry for being a little shit. Please call off your plot to ruin me. But, also like,_ ruin _me, y’know._

“You okay?” Keith was very, very close and his eyes were very, very blue.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been rubbing your forehead for like three minutes. Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking,” Lance hastily took his hand away from his head.

“That must be pretty hard for you,” Keith retorted easily.

A surprised laugh startled out of Lance’s chest. “Was that a joke?”

Keith shrugged and took another slow inhale. Lance could definitely see his chest muscles through his shirt. God he wanted Keith to _plow_ him.

The blunt fumbled out of Keith's grasp and hit the ground with a skitter of embers. Lance cussed under his breath and stooped to pick up where it lay by Keith’s shoes. “Hey man, you gotta be careful-”

Hand were shoving Lance hard into the fence and Keith was on him, pressed flush from their lips to their feet.

Keith Kogane was kissing him.

He kissed like it was a fight, like he was trying to make Lance’s tongue submit with his own and he bit a little too hard and he was pressed so hard against Lance it was getting hard to breathe. And then Lance realized that was only because he simply _hadn’t_ breathed so the moment Keith pulled away to press open mouth kisses against his neck, Lance sucked in a lungful of air.

Keith’s hands slid to Lance’s stomach and then around to the back of his hips, never once stilling. Lance whimpered when his teeth scraped hard against a rising bruise and then Keith was kissing him again. All teeth and tongue and hot breathing.

Lance moved his hands to run under Keith’s leather jacket, but stopped when he realized he still had the blunt in his hand. He floundered for a moment on what he should do and Keith pulled back, eyes half-lidded. He plucked it from Lance’s fingertips, inhaled hard, and then stubbed the lit end out against his own thumb.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Lance gasped. Keith blew the smoke out and reattached himself to Lance like he was his next breath of fresh air.

The buzzing of a cellphone against Lance’s hip made them both start. Keith barely pulled back, chest still very much pressed against Lance’s, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t even glance at the screen as he answered it.

“What?”

Keith’s voice was deep and husky and, yup, Lance was drooling.

“Pidge, no, just ask Shiro.”

Lance froze. Pidge. Pidge and Keith and their plan to humiliate Lance. Keith who was currently pressed up against Lance after nearly two months of pining.

He had literally played right into their hands.

Lance shoved Keith hard in chest. Keith reeled back, his face shocked and confused. He was _mocking_ Lance.

“Nice try, you fucker,” Lance snarled, shoving him again for good measure.

Keith completely abandoned his cell phone as he grabbed at both of Lance’s own and pinned them against his chest.

“Lance, what the fuck?”

“This is you and Pidge’s plan right? Use my shitty feelings against me because I was an asshole that one night. Well, guess what, it’s not going to happen.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Keith asked viciously. The sincere emotion almost made Lance pause, but he had seen how good Pidge was at acting in the coffee shop so he bulldozed on.

“That night when, yes, I was being a dick. I pissed you off and Pidge got pissed off by association. So now you’re going to fuck around with me and then make me feel like shit after all this time I’ve fucking wasted thinking about you. Good job, great plan, now _fuck off_.” Lance tried to yank his hands out of Keith’s but he just pinned him closer.

“Lance, I don’t know what ideas you’ve got in your head but-”

“Don’t. I caught you. Don’t try to save it and make me believe something that isn’t true just to turn around and stab me in the back.”

This time when he wrestled for his hands, Keith let him go. He looked lost and frustrated and a little angry. He really was a good actor, Lance would give him that.

The urge to cry was welling up fast and Lance just needed to get out of here, away from Keith and Pidge and everybody. He wanted to take a shower to scrub himself clean and then lie down in his own bed and cry his eyes out. All that time wasted.

Lance straightened up as tall as he could with his heart sinking low. He forced his lower lip to stop trembling. “I hope it was fun for you,” he snapped, voice wobbly and before Keith could open his mouth, Lance was practically running away. And if he was crying that was his business.

He dodged around Hunk and Shay and waited for an uber out on the front yard. His nose was running and he probably looked like shit, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to care. His lips were still sensitive from Keith’s teeth every time he licked them and it made him want to fist his hair in frustration.

He was such an idiot.

 

**Author's Note:**

> some explanations:  
> chub - basically a half boner, like a limp dick  
> beer pong - it'd be easier to just look up videos or an explanation, but the gist is if your opponent makes their ball into your cup, you have to drink it, and if they make both balls then they get the balls back. the game is over when someone drinks all of their cups. 
> 
> sorry for run on sentences and any grammar mistakes! ty for reading


End file.
